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Moth
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She could hear voices up ahead. Gloria's head snapped up, her eyes going wider as her blood turned to ice. O-Oh God...

Wow, she was so scared that even her inner-dialogue was stuttering. Impressive.

Her hand tightened around the gun as she stared ahead, looking for shapes or shadows. She couldn't make out the words, but the tones sounded...aggressive. Angry.

Gloria shivered involuntarily--an old, familiar feeling was creeping over her, like what she'd felt that morning when she left for school a few years ago. The feeling that stayed with her all the first half of the day, finally exploding and making her cry when she was called to the principal's office. Something bad'll happen---something very, very bad. "Michael," she whispered. "W-We should go..." She began to walk again--slower than last time, so as not to make noise--and her foot came down on a twig, making it snap loudly. She froze again, hardly daring to breathe--and then without thinking, lifted the gun up, aiming at nothing in particular--just a tree, really, aimed for the center of a tree--hoping that whoever it was out there angry, they'd see her gun and...

And leave them alone.
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